


Shaking Breath

by Bam4Me



Series: Reincarnate [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, But also relationship confusion, Dalla survived the birth, Established Relationship, Free Folk Live, Gay Marriage, Gen, Hardhome did not happen cause Jon got them all below the Wall, Jon and Dany are soulmates, Jon and Tormund are HUSBANDS, Jon is a crybaby I stg, M/M, No Jon/Ygritte tho, Platonic Soulmates, Set after Jon comes back to life, Ygritte lives, all of them - Freeform, virgin Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: Jon didn't know what it was like to love someone so truly that it hurts to think about losing them other than Daenerys, because everyone else he ever loved has been ripped from his arms already, leaving a painful wound in his chest. Or maybe, that was when his brothers had stabbed him over and over till he bled out in the snow.But also, maybe he does have one more person he's not willing to lose, but he didn't yet know it.





	Shaking Breath

**Author's Note:**

> The reason why I'm not having there be any Jon/Ygritte in this is NOT because I don't like her, or I want to be one of those 'bisexuality doesn't exist' writers. I KNOW it exists, and I normally love it, but thing is, I honestly cannot imagine them breaking up in a world where Jon never betrayed them (Jon didn't fight Castle Black, he became the Lord Commander and let all of them through the Wall, which then got him killed) and so I just decided to do away with it all together.
> 
> Unfortunately, this means I accidentally made Jon a virgin lol, he's so sweet and has never done the do before, poor baby. Well, trust me, after Jon told Tormund he loved him, Jon wasn't a virgin for much longer.
> 
> Instead of it being Jon/Ygritte tho, Jon instead, ended up being asked by Tormund to 'share furs' with him. Now Jon, our sweet innocent knows nothing Jon Snow, once asked his fahter, at the tender age of TINY and IMPRESSIONABLE, what 'sharing furs' meant. Ned Stark, Professional Daddy of course, told him that it means snuggling to keep warm. Jon never had reason to question him of course, so his entire life he just thought it meant cuddling. So when Tormund asked to 'share furs' with him, Jon thought he was asking to keep him warm and said okay. Que confusion on both parts. (Tormund after a while, just assumed Jon was asexual and never pushed it. Jon didn't know he was being hit on.)
> 
> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com

When Jon came to Daenerys, she was reading a book in an old looking library, bigger than the Citadel and with far more exotic books. Daenerys was furiously going through a book on Meereen laws and customs when Jon came in. Jon wondered if she'd seen the book before and was retrieving it from memory, or if she could possibly manifest it here without the memory to call on. Daenerys looked up at him with a betrayed scowl on her face, but when she saw him, haggard and falling to pieces in front of her, she got up to take him in her arms.

 

There have been many times over the years when one of them relied on the other just to keep it together, and Jon nearly started sobbing into her arms at the remembrance of his newfound trauma. It was too close and he could still feel death's cold grip on his body, and he didn't want to project it through their bond. He could subject her to that. 

 

Daenerys sighed, gently cradling his head against her chest while Jon shook. He just shook and shook, unable to hold back, and afraid that if he lost the battle of wits, he'd just start screaming.

 

“My sweet little bird, I would keep you in a gilded cage if I could, away from all the world that could hurt you and all the people who can tear you up. What happened, little bird? I felt you leave me, you left me cold for days, and I feel nothing but sorrow from you now. You're torn to pieces like wet paper, and you close your mind from the comfort I can bring you.”

 

Jon finally stopped shaking so hard that Daenerys could do nothing but hold him, though he still shivered in her arms, body trembling gently, voice  _ raw _ when he answered her. “I died, Dany, they killed me, they stabbed me.”

 

Daenerys stopped breathing, and Jon held his breath as well, waiting for something, anything. When she spoke, it sounded nothing but anger, raw and uncut, Targaryen ruthlessness coming through in a promise to burn her enemies with her beloved dragons. Jon almost felt sorry for anyone on the end of that anger, but it always made him feel safe and loved to hear it. “Who killed you? Why?”

 

Jon let out a shaky breath, hands tightening in her soft clothes, pushing his head into her stomach to block out the light. “Brothers of the Night’s Watch, they stabbed me, and left me to bleed out on the snow. Ser Davos, the knight of Stannis Baratheon who I had to turn away, he brought me inside and asked a priestess from the Lord of Light to pray over me, and I came back. Dany, they killed me, so I had to put them to death.”

 

Daenerys sounded no less ruthless when she answered. “A pity I did not get the chance to meet them before their demise.”

 

She lifted his head, looking him right in the eye with that strong gaze that's she's so perfected over the years. “ _ No one _ , will ever get away with laying a hand on you, do you understand me? No one will ever harm you on my watch. If only I could have you closer to me, I could protect you.”

 

Jon gave her his first smile in a long time, amused even. “Protect me? You can barely protect yourself, don't think I can't feel your nervous falter My Queen.”

 

Daenerys sighed, looking around the room in frustration. “I will be fine, Jon. I am on my way to Vaes Dothrak, the city of my people.”

 

Jon furrowed his brows. “Why?”

 

“...I have been captured, and upon learning who I am, the Khal has forced me to go, because all Khaleesi must become dosh khaleen, the holy women of the city. They decide who's villages to burn and raid. They think I'll be one of them and act as a servant of their god for the rest of my life.”

 

Jon looked up at Daenerys in wonder. Sometimes she did things, thought of things, that Jon would have never planned out. She was the breaker of chains and mother of dragons. The most notable thing Jon ever did was become Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, let any Free Folk who wished through the gates, and then get killed for it. 

 

His selfless act really was selfless, even careless. Careless with his own life, and he'd never thought of it like this before, but if he were to lose himself, what would it be like for Daenerys? He bit his lip and thought carefully about his next words. “What… how did it feel, when I…”

 

She frowned, a line of pure anguish on her face at the memory. “It felt like part of me died, like I'd lost my stillborn son all over again, but bigger, because you are so much more… you are a part of me, and I lost that. I healed from Rhaego, I would never heal from you. I'd been so lost after you, it's why I was unable to run from them, to get away. I cannot lose you, Jon. When I felt you gone, that's when I gave up on getting back too.”

 

Jon started faltering again, nearly crying anew. “You  _ cannot _ give up, Dany, you cannot. I would break too.”

 

Daenerys leaned in to press her lips to Jon’s forehead, and Jon did let out a sob this time, but this one much more bitter, for the warmth in his chest at the familiar feel of the kiss, was the same he had always felt with Ned, and now the grief was too deep to dig out of.

 

“If I had already lost you, Jon, there would be no more reason for me to go on. I would leave this world, just to follow you and Drogo and Rhaego into the afterlife, I would follow you all, because you all are my hearts. Only you and my dragons matter now.”

 

Jon leaned into her again with a sigh, relieved. “Sansa is in Castle Black now. She came with Brienne of Tarth, escorted by four spearwives Brienne has taken as companions since they came to the North. The Boltons are still living in Winterfell, the South is still trying to tear itself apart.” Jon choked on his words coming out. “Dany, what do I do?”

 

Daenerys pulled his head up again, forcing his eyes to meet hers in that way that made him listen. “You will go to the Free Folk, and you will ask for their help. The Boltons are a threat to all the North, that  _ includes _ them, if they won't fight to eliminate them, they will be conquered and beaten back once more. You won't demand this of them, but they need to know, if they are to claim any part of the North, they can't just pretend like no one else exists, they will need to fight for their place in it.”

 

Jon frowned. “I could speak with Tormund. He hasn't left my side since coming back, other than to give me time with Sansa. I doubt he'll leave me alone for a while anyways.”

 

Daenerys snorted. “Of course he won't. He's had his eyes on you since you first met. You saved his entire people, including those terrors he calls daughters, he wants you.”

 

Jon turned red, eyes wide as he watched her. “Dany, you cannot be serious. Tormund is a friend, nothing more.”

 

Daenerys looked honestly surprised at that. “But… you sleep with him all the time when he's around?”

 

Jon sputtered. “To share  _ heat _ ! Do you not understand how cold the North can  _ get? _ ”

 

Daenerys shrugged. “Oh, well, you may have had innocent thoughts about him, but I don't think that sentiment is returned. You should ask him for help. And maybe to stay around to… keep your furs warm…”

 

Jon let out a little groan at that, turning away from Daenerys with an eye roll. “I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, in fact, we're ignoring pretty much all of it. I'll talk to Mance, because this is his war now, whether he likes it or not.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Good. Now, help me figure out a way to get out of Vaes Dothrak and get rid of the Sons of the Harpy.”

 

***

 

Mance was finishing up talking to Val when Jon found him standing on one of the ramparts of Castle Black’s main square, watching the group of both Free Folk and crows, working together to fortify the buildings below. Though Jon didn’t see Dalla anywhere with Mance, Mance was holding his still young son against his chest.

 

Sometimes, when Jon saw a young baby boy, like the little prince beyond the Wall, or Little Sam as the brother’s call Gilly’s baby, Jon could feel a deep pang of longing in his chest. Sometimes he wondered if it was only Daenerys’s pain that made him long for that of healthy children, happy and alive with their parents, and sometimes, he wondered if Daenerys and Jon were so in tune, that both their hurts rang true as one. He knows that when Daenerys sees children without parents, ripping from their siblings, her heart pangs for more than just herself.

 

Mance watched him for a few seconds longer than he would usually, and gestured for Jon to come closer, gently handing over the sleeping babe to the shell shocked, once dead man. Jon took his with wide eyes, holding him as gently as he could. “Dalla has requested to speak with your sister, and asked me to watch our young prince while they talk.”

 

Jon shifted once, almost awkwardly with the baby in his arms. “He’s tiny.”

 

Mance nodded. “That he is, but he’s nearly half a year. He’ll probably be taking his first steps soon. They often do so young.”

 

Jon could feel the pain in his chest getting worse, and he had to hold back tears in his eyes at the most recent memory he had of the Stark children’s youngest, taking their first steps. When he remembered Rickon -sweet little Rickon, who was in Ramsay Bolton’s dungeon right now, who had lost his home and family before he was even old enough to fully know what was going on- he remembered him either following at Lady Stark’s footsteps, or after that, at Robb’s, after Bran had fallen.

 

“I only know where one other brother I have is, and it’s in the dungeons of the home I grew up in. Without the woman who’s cared for him these past six years, and without his wolf.”

 

Ghost was standing at his side now, always near him when he wasn’t with Sam now days. Mance looked over at the great beast with a little sigh. Jon could have used him a week ago, but as far as Mance knew, they’d locked the direwolf up.

 

Ghost got up on his back paws to stand a little higher, one of them resting on the rail while he leaned in to smell the baby. Jon smiled at that, letting Ghost look his fill. Ghost seemed to approve of the baby, leaning forward to lick it’s nose once, before going back to sitting.

 

Mance gave the wolf a funny look, accepting the baby back with a suspicious look towards the wolf. Jon gave them a little smile, shaking his head to clear it and turned to walk away. “I need to speak to Ygritte, I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

Ghost stayed behind, obviously curious about the baby, getting odd looks from Mance as he watched them with big eyes.

 

Ygritte was in the small camp of Free Folk that had come back to the Wall when they heard of Jon’s death and mutiny. When he came to Ygritte’s tent, she was making more bows and arrows in her tent. She had a pile of knapped obsidian next to her, and upon closer inspection, he could see they were tiny arrowheads.

 

“You found someone to knap them for you?”

 

She didn’t look up from her work in gently trimming the feathers on her bow, a nervous habit she had when upset over something. “The North is not without those who know how to carve weapons from hard rock, Jon Snow.”

 

He picked up one of the more delicate pieces. It was dragon glass that Daenerys had sent to the Wall just half a year before, when Jon had told her of Sam’s encounter with the White Walker he’d killed. She said it wasn’t much of an issue to trade, for the isle of Lorath traded in obsidian regularly, and it wasn’t a hardship on her stores to get it.

 

They had three large crates of it sitting in the holdfast of Castle Black, but out of those that were there, not many of them knew how to knap weapons. It was a craft many failed at. “I guess some of the Free Folk have offered to make weapons, then?”

 

She nodded with a hum, moving onto another arrow. She had quite the pile of them next to her. “There are many who know the craft, and some of them have taken the obsidian to work with and spread out among the people. It’s a slow moving craft, I’m afraid. They work as fast and well as they can, though.”

 

Jon nodded, setting the arrowhead back down, and taking a seat across from her on the soft furs on the ground. “Uncle Benjen tried to teach me how to knap rock, once. I was terrible at it. I ended up giving myself a bloody thumb. I was only about fourteen though. I still have the scar.”

 

He showed her the ragged scar on his thumb, making her finally look up, and snort at it, like she was amused, but she went right back to her arrows. Hon decided another tactic to get her out of it.

 

“I… I have something I need to ask you, and it’s a little… embarrassing.”

 

She stopped now, and after a few beats, looked up from her work, eyes sharp and steady on him, curious. “Embarrassing?”

 

Jon sighed. She was just like Daenerys and all his other siblings, easy to ignore him until they thought they had something to lord over him. At least, this time, it’s what he meant to happen. “Yes, embarrassing. I think it’s possible, that I might have been… misreading, something that Tormund and I have been over before, and I’m a little worried to tell him.”

 

She grinned. “Do tell. What did this sweet southron lord make a mistake of?”

 

He coloured a little at that, not meeting her eyes. He honestly was embarrassed. “I… what does ‘sharing furs’ mean beyond the Wall?”

 

Ygritte shrugged. “Fucking, mostly.”

 

Jon cringed, colouring almost right red in his complete embarrassment. “Oh. I had no idea.”

 

She gave him an incredulous look. “What did you  _ think _ it meant?”

 

“Um… just, sleeping together? To keep each other warm at night, I guess?”

 

Ygritte had wide, amused eyes, and Jon has never felt so embarrassed at a mistake like this before. “You thought, that Tormund Giantsbane, a man with more sexual prowess than most -though still less than he  _ says _ \- meant to  _ keep you warm _ at night by sleeping at your side? Have you two just been sleeping together for the past  _ four years _ ?”

 

Jon couldn’t even figure out what to say to that, biting his lip and nodding his head, cheeks burning. “I didn’t know.”

 

Ygritte snorted, giggling like a maiden for far too long while Jon glared at her, before breaking out into more giggles when she caught sight of the look on his face again. “Oh, that’s amazing. You know, he loves you more than anything.”

 

Jon stopped glaring, this time looking surprised. “He does?”

 

She nodded, still smiling. “Of course. When he left with us to go below the Wall, I just thought he was moping because he no longer had you to fuck at night, but now that I know he never had that in the first place, I know it might be love. He was so upset to even be away from you, not to sleep at your side, how could it be anything else?”

 

Jon didn’t reply for a long moment, but when he did, it sounded hopeful. “If I went to him now, do you think he would be upset at my confusion?”

 

Ygritte shrugged. “That depends; do you love him too? Because from what I know, he’s thought you loved him for at least four years now, and I don’t think he’d be all that happy to learn you don’t. He’s been so wrapped up in his love for you, he thought it returned.”

 

Jon chose his words carefully. “It’s… it’s not that I don’t love him. I think I do. But, I haven’t thought of him as someone I was in a relationship all these years like he has.”

 

Ygritte nodded, putting down her scissors and looking at him carefully. “Jon, what would you do if you lost him? Because I’ve seen what he would do if he lost you, and it wasn’t pretty. In fact, I saw him lose himself that day, and I don’t think he breathed until he saw you stand again.”

 

Jon’s own breath caught at the thought of it. It had been tough to send Tormund away with the rest of the Free Folk when they had come back, but Jon hadn’t sent him away for himself, he hadn’t sent him away because he didn’t want him by his side. He sent him away because though he never thought they would kill him, he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill Tormund to get at him.

 

Jon brought up and hand to his chest, and he could feel a resounding breath of echoing pain in his mind; Daenerys could feel him, and she didn’t like what she felt right now. Jon tried to be strong for her. He always tried to be strong for her, because it always hurt him to know he was causing her so much grief. He pressed down tightly against his chest as he couldn’t hold it back, and tears slipped out silently against his still hot cheeks, and he choked once.

 

When he came back from the edge of that grief he hadn’t actually experienced, but imagined, Ygritte was holding out a cloth for him to wipe his tears off on, and Jon took a moment to just breath before taking it from her silently.

 

“I think that explains a lot, if that’s how you’d react, Jon Snow. You should go to him, and tell him of your confusion, and that you don’t want it to change things.”

 

Jon was quiet for another minute, still getting himself back to calm. “Well, I can do with changing some things, I guess... I’ve never even kissed him.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, looking soft for once. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. Go to him, and he’ll be good to you.”

 

Jon nodded, leaving the tent, and hoping he didn’t look as stuffy and gross as he felt right now. He headed straight for his rooms in the castle, hoping to wash his face before going to find Tormund, and found the halfgiant already waiting for him there. Tormund looked up from the fire he was staring into, and raised an eyebrow at Jon’s face. Jon just walked over to the wash bin and moved to get a cloth to scrub the gross off his face with cold water. Almost too cold.

 

“Something wrong, little crow?”

 

Jon paused, before moving to wipe the water off. Tormund and Daenerys both called him that, and he couldn’t bring himself to be upset with them for it, though he knew Tormund once meant it as an insult. They had all once meant it as an insult. He doesn’t think Daenerys would ever try to insult him.

 

He turned around to see Tormund, and found that Ghost had somehow made it back to the room with him. “Big beast here seems to like following me around, like someone else I can think of.”

 

Jon looked down with a light dusting of pick on his cheeks, but he couldn’t help but notice that this was a much more pleasant flush than any other had been, and he could feel a resounding burst of pleasure in the back of his mind, making him feel a little lightheaded. Sometimes, having another’s emotions in your head could be overwhelming beyond reason, and having Daenerys feel good was one of his favorite things. It made him lightheaded and excited.

 

He didn’t think about it, just stepped up into the man’s space, nearly the same height standing as Tormund was sitting on the chair by the fire. Tormund was a big man. Jon pushed in between his legs, a sudden need to be close to him as possible. Closer even, than when they slept, wrapped up into each other’s arms.

 

Tormund’s hands came down to Jon’s hips, letting the smaller of the two find a comfortable spot up against his chest and cradling those strong bones in hands that were too big to be fully human. Jon wonders how many generations back the giant’s blood came from. Or maybe, Tormund didn’t even have any giant’s blood in him, he was just unreasonably huge. It was said there was Northern blood in the Stark family, and Jon could see it in his father sometimes. Thinking back on him, even when it was too painful, he could see the similarities between the Stark’s and Beyond, that weren’t present in other Northern families.

 

Jon leaned in, and cautiously, almost afraid -terrified- of being rejected, pressed his lips against Tormund’s, breathing out shakily against him as Tormund pulled him closer, and right into his lap. Jon found himself connected to Tormund from a different angle, his legs pulled up over Tormund’s own so Jon was leaning against his chest. Tormund was surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.

 

When they finally parted, Tormund gave him an honestly curious look while Jon sat against him, dizzy from his first real kiss. He was a man of twenty one, and this was his first real kiss. He almost felt more humiliation at the idea of it.

 

“Now, what’s this for?”

 

Jon sat up a little so he could look him in the eyes. “I think I’ve always wanted to do that. I didn’t know it, though.”

 

Tormund’s brows pulled together. “Well, I always just assumed you weren’t into it. Wouldn’t be right to push that sort of thing on someone.”

 

Jon sighed, almost dreamily. Oh, he had been right, he really does love this man. “You are too good to me, Tormund Giantsbane.”

 

Tormund grinned, reaching up a hand to gently trace Jon’s softly swollen lips. They were chapped from the cold, and Tormund held Jon still by the chin so he could lean in and suck at them more, making Jon gasp into his mouth. “Is there anything else you haven’t asked for you might be interested in?”

 

Jon knew what he was talking about. He knew -now- that Tormund wanted to fuck him; to get him begging underneath him and desperate for his touch.

 

That wasn’t what he asked for.

 

“Marry me.”

 

Tormund blinked, once, twice, and sat back in the seat, never letting Jon off his lap. “Excuse me?”

 

Jon looked away, words faltering into shy mumbles. “That’s, that’s what people do when in love, right? When they want to declare to others that they’re taken, and no one else can have them? They get married?”

 

Tormund shrugged. “Not always in the North, I guess, but I hear it’s how you Southroners do it. Is that what you want? To declare to all your Southron houses that you’ve been taken by a Free Man of the North? I didn’t know you wed men to men.”

 

Jon thought about that, before shaking his head. “We don’t. But, the Free Folk do, so, it’ll be a Northern ceremony. Though, I’ve seen them happen, and they’re much the same as those here.”

 

Tormund gently squeezed his right hip, making Jon sigh a little against him, happy to feel so close to him. “The Night’s Watch will take no spouse?”

 

Jon looked him in the eye when he answered. “My watch is ended.”

 

***

 

Alys Karstark rode into Castle Black on a dying horse, telling them she’d escaped from a dungeon cell her cousin had thrown her in after plotting to murder her brother, the rightful heir of Karhold, and take the house as their own.

 

She plead with Jon and Sansa to take her under their protection, which was granted immediately. 

 

“You do not understand, my lord-”

 

“I’m not a lord.”

 

Alys paused, looking between the people in the room with a frown. This wasn’t exactly a normal set of people. She looked between them all -a wildling king, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Lady Stark, and a wildling man with a red beard- and frowned. “You are Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, are you not?”

 

Jon sighed, glancing away once towards Mance, and back to Alys. “Not anymore. Anyways, you were saying?”

 

Alys nodded. “Of course. The only way to keep him from claiming Karhold, which he will, is to let me marry a man with a noble house name, and have him claim Karhold if my brother dies.”

 

Jon thought that over for a few moments before turning to Sansa. She seemed just as lost as he did, but thankfully, Mance was one step ahead of both of them.

 

“Does the noble house have to be established, or can it be new? I know that ruling nobles can establish new houses upon that of marriage.”

 

Jon was surprised that he knew that, but nodded, turning to look back towards Alys. “It doesn’t have to be established yet. We only need to find you a suitable husband, and Sansa could claim a new house for you.”

 

She looked over at Sansa, who was nodding thoughtfully. “It’s true. Ramsay may be the Warden of the North, until his death,” the words were said as a threat, and Alys didn’t need much to know she meant them as one, “but I am still a ruling noble, and once he’s gone, there will be no one around to respite my claim for you.”

 

Alys gave them her first genuine smile. “Thank you, I really do mean this.”

 

When she was gone, Jon turned to Mance. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

 

Mance shook his head. “Maybe. But either way, I have a hundred thousand people to choose from. As long as she’s a true girl from the North, she’ll take it, if only to save her house.”

 

Mance got up from his seat, and nodded to the two of them. “Also, my congratulations on your own wedding, as well.”

 

He left the room with Jon and Tormund staring after him, and Sansa outright gawking at Jon. “You’re getting married?”

 

***

 

Alys Karstark and Sigorn, Magnar of Thenn, were married under the Godswood Beyond the Wall, on the same day as Jon Snow and Tormund Giantsbane.

 

Jon never thought that after taking his vows for the Night’s Watch, he would take another set for a man he loved.

 

He never thought that if he did, he would have his sister standing at his back, or even, giving him away as the only close family to him in the area.

 

Melisandere gave both couples a gentle smile as she pronounced them wed, being the only religious figure at Castle Black at this moment, and Jon almost thought Tormund seemed happy to be wed in the true North, even if he was kneeling before a R’hllor priestess. 

 

Some of the men of the Night’s Watch seemed amused, and others, upset. Most simply thought that Jon had forsaken all the rest of his vows, might as well keep going. Edd seemed almost pleased with him, in a twisted sort of amusement, but glad to finally see his friend happy.

 

When Jon and Tormund rose, hand in hand as husband and husband, Jon turned to look and him, and honestly, he couldn’t imagine being happier than in this moment, resounding joy in the back of his head making him smile almost giddily as they kissed.

 

Things would get better, and if not, he couldn’t say he never knew happiness before it hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com


End file.
